The Last Ballad of Olympus: The Waltz of the Vulture and Owl

A Mother's Delight

"As I understood, Gaia nurtured the seed and gave birth to Erichthonius? Am I right?" Aphrodite asked, shattering the unwieldy silence.

Athena nodded without looking at her fellow goddess. "Yes, the seed was nurtured by Gaia. And after nine days since I threw out the cloth, the spirit of mother earth knocked on my door, carrying a bundle in her arms. She told me that the baby was the fruit of the seed, and I must take care of it." Her tone changed in delight when she narrated her first encounter with her son. "When I finally held him, something inside me changed. I have not encountered such emotion—a feeling of familiarity and—perhaps that is what you call love at first sight. I was in love with him. Deeply in love that the moment he cooed, I instantly knew that he belonged to me and I to him."

Aphrodite beamed a smile once she saw Athena's face lit. The mother's glow that she knew so well finally appeared in the goddess of wisdom's lovely and toothy grin.

"I immediately cared for him, cradled him in my arms, and sang a lullaby to make him sleep."

"Oh, Athena—how you told me this tale made me realize that you are not immune to love. That is true love, an unconditional bond that even death could not destroy."

"Death indeed did not destroy the love for my son," Her silver eyes then lowered to stare at her feet, and added, "But death brought me agony."

There was sympathy in her sigh. From one mother to the other, Aphrodite comforted Athena as she stroked her back. "I understand now, Athena. No need to hide it anymore. You must know that I am here to listen."

"Thank you." Athena gave a sincere twinkle.

"I was wondering, how did you foster the newborn? I am sure his tongue was searching for the mother's nourishment."

Athena looked at her, radiating more shine on her face. "About that—it was a miraculous moment." She then recollected as she turned her face away, "That moment when he cried in hunger, my breast suddenly ached and swelled as if something was growing inside. When I massaged it, milk came out—that is how I know I have to feed my son with the gift bestowed upon me.

It was hard at first and excruciatingly painful when he began to suckle. He was a fit babe, and every guzzle he made, sipping the milk out from my nipple, forced me to be burly—knowing now that he would be relying on me for the rest of his life."

"A miracle indeed." Aphrodite soothingly remarked.

"As I continue to breastfeed him, I look into his hazel eyes and instantly name him Erichthonius. It fitted him well that when I whispered it to him, he responded with a sweet little smile."

Aphrodite eased at her story, fleeting in the air like a butterfly in the garden. She was proud of Athena. Her heart rejoiced for her honesty and openness to the subject that had become a legend. If only Athena knew how beautiful she looked when she shared her story of motherhood.

"By the way, my dear." The goddess of love then remembered something in a heartbeat. "I remember those murmurs about your son that he is half snake and half human—is that true?"

Athena shook her head negatively. "He was born normal. The snake thing came from me."

"Huh? You mean to say—"

"I gave him some magic when I decided to raise him in secret and away from Olympus's supremacy. With my power, I blessed my son to shapeshift in case the worst time came upon him. So, it happened when I went down to Athens and visited the three daughters of Cecrops.

When I arrived at the palace, I immediately told them my agenda and gave them a basket where Erichthonius slept peacefully. I warned them not to look inside in haste but to be gentle. Pandrosus, the youngest princess, was happy to take the bundle.

I left the palace since I still had something to do that day. When the colors of the sky turned tangerine from the setting sun, my work was interfered with by a crow that flew to me and reported what happened to Aglaurus and Herse—the firstborn and the second."

"What happened to them?" Aphrodite eagerly asked, puzzled by the events.

"The two princesses went mad. My heartbeat was racing—concerned only for my son. I bolted my heels back to the palace and called for Pandrosus.

The young princess was pale when she came to me. She could not get the words out of her mouth—staggering from something horrifying. I asked her what happened—she then narrated how her sisters became too curious to look inside the basket. And when their curiosity blinded their senses, they opened the basket and saw Erichthonius. They were surprised to see a lovely baby boy and wondered about it. The two older princesses were arguing about who should own the baby, and when their bickering woke him up and made him cry—the power I gave him manifested.

His legs turned into like those of a snake. He cried and cried, and those loud wails perhaps rang inside the two princesses' heads, causing them to become deranged.

The remaining princess managed to calm Erichthonius down and let him sleep in her bedroom. I then told her of my son's shapeshifting powers and let him be at ease whenever he gave another tantrum. I also promised her that I would visit every evening to feed him.

By that early night, we have found the two princesses at the foot of the Acropolis. As some men took their bodies back to the palace, I told King Cecrops what happened and saw the sadness in his eyes that pooled those blue orbs. But the king was wise enough to understand how one should always listen to the divine and expect wrath when defied.

There was mourning and also a new chapter inside the Athenian palace. After the king's grief, I heard he became fond of Erichthonius and raised him like his son. I was happy. At last, my son found the right paternal father who would teach him so many things about life and human knowledge."

The goddess of love smiled when she saw how thrilled Athena was. Her motherly heart skipped with the delight of the story she shared. But a question blossomed inside her head and needed clarity, so she asked the goddess, "Why did you not choose to raise Erichthonius here on Olympus?"

"The people may have spoken to us in great reverence, honor us in many odes and arts, but have you not seen it, Aphrodite? Have you not ever wondered how divine we are at birth, yet we still suffer imperfections? Even much than any humans could even do." Her words struck Aphrodite, darting more arrows into her soul. "I want Erichthonius to live a life away from this glory that I now doubted. I don't want him to grow here in Olympus, where immortality is both a blessing in a curse."

"But now you are separated forever."

Athena paused and reflected on all those past events of happiness and pain she was with her son. Compared to her immortality, she now understood that the infinite moments were nothing to the short times she felt the greatest contentment. As her long lashes curtained those bright silver orbs, she also acknowledged why the past days were forlorn—all because she possessed a mother's sorrow that agonized the soul until the end.

"Perhaps it is time to let go—little by little." She thoughtfully concluded. She then pointed to Aphrodite, her perspective on her son's death. "Indeed, I could no longer see him; I could no longer touch his face and hear his voice calling out to me, but I am happy to spend many years with him. I am overjoyed and honored to have memories worth a lifetime. And I am glad that he did not suffer the loneliness that the infinity of time entails."

"I guess you are right." Aphrodite sulked for a while.

"Yes—my son is now in peace." A little smile beamed on her lips. "Thank you, Aphrodite, for listening."

Aphrodite, equally grateful to her, said, "No—Thank you for sharing it with me." She smiled.

The wise goddess clasped her fellow goddess's hand and let her satisfaction blend in with the silence as the twilight breeze brushed through their rosy ivory skin.

The sweet smell of gardenias and Olympus flowers lingered amongst the musky incense. After her tale, some relief danced within Athena like a thorn plucked out deep within the flesh of her heart.